


Ten Years Gone

by Catspaw



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Clone Fic, First Time, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:11:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catspaw/pseuds/Catspaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never say 'never'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Years Gone

He stood stock-still, staring at the slightly averted profile of the man standing in the stacks immersed in the book in his hands. Incredibly, it really was him, and looking exactly the same - except, he thought with a wry grin, his taste in clothes was probably better. But the formal look had always been good on him, even when, as now, the tie was loosened and hanging slack and the expensive dark suit was slightly crumpled. Not that that had ever been his choice of everyday wear. So, given that he was also far off his known beaten track, he'd probably either come straight from the airport or from a meeting.

He hesitated a little, unsure of his reception after so long. And then thought, _what the hell_. Decision made, he took a deep breath and started walking.

* 

Daniel replaced the book on the shelf with an impatient click of his tongue and reached for another one. He opened it, flipping through the pages, skimming the text to track down the information he was looking for. He was completely focussed on the task, quietly oblivious to everything around him.

"Hey, Daniel. Long time, no see."

He jumped and then froze at the sound of that voice, knowing that its owner should be off world. Then his head jerked up and he whirled around, eyes wide in surprise, but narrowing as he took in the appearance of the man standing at his elbow.

Younger. Much younger. He'd be what, twenty-six? Twenty-seven? Longish, light brown hair, casually styled - it suited him. No scarred eyebrow and when he looked closely, no shadows behind the warmth in the dark eyes. 

"Jack," he breathed, eyes widening again in shock as the penny dropped.

When Daniel had turned, Jack had watched as the expression in Daniel's eyes changed to something more than surprise at an unexpected interruption. But of course, he'd been expecting the other Jack, the older Jack. That was understandable - after all, who'd immediately think of the teenaged boy clone? He had a momentary, resentful flashback to that time, all the earnest discussions about his future before he was pushed comprehensively out of his own life and under the rug, to be forgotten as thoroughly as possible, consigned to a dusty footnote in an old mission report: even the surveillance had been allowed to lapse quietly. He forced himself to swallow it down, let it go; old history now, and it really hadn't turned out too bad.

He might have forgiven - more or less - but he'd never forgotten. Sure, over time his feelings had dimmed as he'd gotten on with his life, and that was only natural. But seeing Daniel now, all those feelings re-ignited with fresh force and the love and desire that he'd thought had been buried for good resurfaced with a vengeance. Without thinking, Jack brought his right hand up to pull Daniel into a hug - not touching, but wanting to. Oh yes, he wanted to. But Daniel flinched like a skittish horse.

Jack's expression changed as he slowly pulled back his hand. Okay, that was only to be expected, he guessed. It hurt a little though, no matter how much he rationalised it. "How've you been? What brings you here?"

Daniel blinked, eyes switching rapidly between Jack and the book in his hands. "Uh, just reading up on some stuff for work. I couldn't find what I needed so I made some calls and -- well, this is library number four on the list to visit."

Jack's brows rose in question. "Looking for..." and he tilted his head to look at the cover of the book, "Rapa Nui?"

Daniel gave him a quick glimpse of a smile. "Yeah, Rapa Nui. This library and the one in D.C. are the only ones so far who have anything in depth about the Rapa Nui."

"They have that stuff online, Daniel."

"Yeah, but..." and he held up the old book in his hand. "Not everything. Hence the treasure hunt I've been on."

"'Treasure Hunt'. That sounds -- compulsive. Anything serious?" Jack asked, immediately lured back into old, old habits. But it wasn't his problem any more and he forced himself to relax.

Daniel caught the concern. "I don't know yet. Just research at this stage. Background stuff, you know."

"Yeah, I remember." Jack took another long look at Daniel. The first time he'd looked, it was with recognition and identification - and longing. Now, Jack saw the minute changes that had come with age. The worry lines, and a few of what he hoped were laugh lines. Daniel's hair was the same, although slightly longer than when he'd last seen him, touching the bottom edge of his jacket collar. Still the same reddish-brown, only a few strands of grey. The eyes were that same intense blue he remembered so well, but as they returned his gaze, they weren't as bright as they had been when he'd first turned around.

Which told Jack a couple of things. Daniel had expected to turn and see the other, older Jack O'Neill. Hardly a newsflash. But the expression in his eyes had been of surprised hope, as if Daniel hadn't seen the other Jack in a long time. What it didn't tell him was whether or not that Jack O'Neill had ever pulled his head out of his ass and told Daniel that he loved him. That was something that he wanted to do very badly right at that moment... as a prelude to a few other things.

"Jack?" Daniel asked warily, recognising the oddly familiar signs of assessment. There was something else there too, something he couldn't quite put a name to, something he'd never seen in the eyes of his Jack.

His Jack. Jack had never been his. Daniel mentally kicked himself for allowing his mind to run off on that particular track. Desperately inappropriate in the circumstances, he reprimanded himself.

"I'm sorry. I was staring, wasn't I?"

The easy apology without a trace of sarcasm was startling and Daniel rushed to deflect attention from his confusion. "'S okay. I probably was too."

Another awkward moment that seemed to last far too long while Jack stood smiling at him and he cast around in his mind for something to fill it, before Jack said, "Hey, you busy? I mean, really busy, 'cause..." Jack looked down at his watch. "Listen, it's almost five o'clock. Why don't you join me for dinner? Please?" Adding, as Daniel drew a deep breath and started to frame his answer, "Don't say no."

Daniel's first instinct was to refuse. He didn't though, for no reason that he could readily identify: instead, he said with a small, tight smile, "Still persistent, I see."

"Always," Jack replied, flashing Daniel a brilliant smile in return and it struck Daniel that this Jack O'Neill had a few laugh lines already, which meant that this smile was seen more often. He was thankful for that. Daniel's wariness started to dissolve.

"Uh, well, I have to get this book, and should probably get --"

"Great," Jack said, reaching for the book. "Let me get it so you don't have to pay the fee. I'm assuming you don't have a card here, right?"

"Well no --"

"Okay. I do, so c'mon, let's go. I'll show you around the town, we can have something to eat and --"

"Hold on," Daniel requested, stopping Jack by pulling on his arm. The touch sent a prickle of tension through him and he quickly withdrew his hand.

"Yeah?" Jack asked. _Don't say no_. For a moment he wondered if he'd said that aloud again, but Daniel gave no sign that he had.

"We get the book and we have dinner, but I'm buying."

Relieved, Jack shook his head with another smile. "No way. I'm cooking."

Daniel realised his mouth had dropped open and he shut it. "You're cooking. You cook?"

Jack's smile became broader. "Sure. Doesn't everyone?" He thought about it a moment, then made an elaborate point of realising to whom he was talking, hamming it up with an exaggerated double take. "Sorry. Wrong person to ask, I guess. Something that hasn't changed, at least."

Daniel chuckled, shook his head and said pointedly, "No, some things never change. Okay. You're cooking." So not a good thing, he thought to himself. This required being in Jack's personal space, like his apartment or house or... Daniel pulled himself up short. This Jack could have a girlfriend, he could be married again - hell, he could even have a boyfriend. Yeah, and if he believed that he should probably think about buying a bridge somewhere. Okay, there was only one way to find out. The direct approach.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not going to be messing up any plans or anything, am I?" Okay, semi-direct approach.

Jack gave Daniel a smile that he could wrap himself in. "No. I wouldn't have asked if you were."

Daniel nodded and tried to cover. "Good, good, because I wouldn't want to, uh, intrude, you know - or anything."

Jack took his elbow. "You were never an intrusion, Daniel. I don't think time could change that."

This wasn't exactly the information Daniel had been fishing for and he couldn't leave it be. "So you live...?"

"A couple of blocks from here." Jack smiled, enjoying this. Daniel was off balance. He wasn't sure why, but he knew he'd missed this, the pure joy of teasing Daniel. And also, to tell the truth, the times when Daniel wrong-footed him. As he did, momentarily, when he abruptly stopped fishing, gave Jack a genuine smile and said, "Okay. So, let's go then."

"All right!" Jack beamed back at him. "We'll stop at the store on the way."

*

"Nice place you have here." Daniel stood in the middle of Jack's apartment, gathering first impressions and trying to get his bearings as he shucked his jacket and tie with relief and laid them over the back of a chair. It was a beautiful space, airy and light, which whispered quiet prosperity. Blond wood floors gleamed in the filtered late afternoon sunshine from the high windows, the soft light enhanced by the pale walls. Splashes of colour from artfully placed furniture and artwork kept the eyes interested. _Like a spread from 'Architectural Digest'_ , Daniel thought to himself. He caught sight of a group of model aeroplanes hanging in one corner with a hockey stick propped carelessly underneath them and smiled to himself; so much different, but so much the same.

"Thanks, I like it," Jack called through cheerfully from the kitchen area.

Daniel followed the sound of the voice and walked into the kitchen, an impressive expanse of dark granite, light beech wood and stainless steel. Jack was hunkered down, examining the contents of a pullout wine rack.

"Red wine, right?" He looked up as he spoke and watched Daniel strolling in while methodically rolling up his shirtsleeves to mid-forearm. That was something Jack hadn't seen in way too long, Daniel making himself comfortable in his space. The slight limp though, that was new - new since the last time he'd seen him anyway. Jack felt abruptly nervous, felt he was trying too hard to be normal, whatever that was. He took a deep breath to steady himself, covering it up with the motion as he rose to his feet.

Daniel watched as Jack surged smoothly back up to stand, bottle in hand. The older Jack had always moved with the remnants of athletic grace, even the last time Daniel had seen him, shortly after yet another surgery. This younger version had the real thing at its zenith: a man totally confident in his body and its abilities. 

And he was gorgeous: broad shoulders and deep chest tapering to a trim waist, no sign of softening there; long, lean thighs clad in 501s that _fit_ , emphasising the ranginess of his hips and the strained creases of the fabric over his groin; a tuft of dark chest hair punctuating the shadowed 'v' below the hollow of his throat, hinting at the hairiness of the body beneath his shirt. 

Daniel realised he was staring again and caught Jack's eye in apology. The split-second kick he felt in the pit of his stomach from that gaze surprised and confused him before he chalked it up to wishful thinking. _Get a grip, for god's sake,_ he chided himself, _you're old enough to be this one's father. And don't forget that even though he's younger, with a whole new layer of different experiences, he's still the same Jack O'Neill at his core_.

"Thanks. Red wine will be fine."

"Will you open it? There's a corkscrew in the drawer there." Jack indicated the direction with a nod of his head. "If you do that, I'll start the food."

He matched his actions to his words, rummaging in the fridge and pulling out various ingredients, lining them up on the counter, assembling pots and pans methodically before unwrapping the hastily purchased steaks.

Daniel watched him for a moment or two as he moved around. The economy of movement that he remembered so well was still in evidence, albeit in unusual surroundings. The Jack O'Neill he was familiar with had never been big in the kitchen as far as he could recall. No inclination, and certainly never enough time - although thinking about it, his barbecues had always been good. So maybe the 'no inclination' thing wasn't entirely accurate.

A hand waving in front of his nose brought Daniel suddenly back down to earth. Jack was standing exceedingly close to him, close enough that Daniel could feel the heat radiating from him, close enough that Daniel suddenly felt warm himself. "Daniel? Corkscrew? Or are you hoping the wine will get into the glasses under its own steam?"

"Uh, sorry." Daniel gave a slightly sheepish grin. "I was just thinking... uh, doesn't matter." Because it really wouldn't be tactful now would it, to go into the whole 'compare and contrast' thing. He turned to rummage in the drawer, found the corkscrew and applied himself to opening the bottle. 

He was startled though, when Jack said casually over his shoulder as he went back to his preparations, "It wasn't lack of interest, you know, just lack of time." When he looked across and registered Daniel's surprised expression, he amplified, "The cooking thing. Lack of time. There was always other stuff that got in the way. Now, not so much. And I never could stand to go into anything half-assed."

Daniel swallowed his surprise because hell, he should really have known: he and Jack had always been on much the same wavelength on the day-to-day level, just not in the one area where it really mattered, and this man was Jack, despite the added extras. He needed to keep reminding himself of that.

"Glasses are in there," Jack indicated a run of cupboard doors with a backwards gesture of his head, "just keep looking 'til you find them."

"You want red wine as well? Not beer? Or anything?"

"Sure," Jack said lightly. "My tastes have changed a little. Red wine is fine." 

He turned his attention back to the food, deftly wrapping the steaks in bacon and setting the skillet to heat, cleaning off the baby red potatoes he'd retrieved from the depths of the fridge, firing up the oven. Daniel found the glasses and poured them, then settled back with one hip against the counter top, enjoying watching him as he savoured his first taste of the wine. He'd always found Jack's effortless physical competence fascinating no matter what task he'd been engaged in, and as he sipped and watched, he allowed himself the momentary indulgence of remembering just how that felt as he started to relax.

When Jack darted him a small sideways smile, he shrugged the memories off, and any residual awkwardness that came with them, pushed himself off from the counter and crossed the space between them with Jack's glass in his hand. Again, that crackle of attraction when he brushed past Jack to the counter and put the glass down within reach but Daniel determinedly pushed it down.

"Here. All the really good chefs cook with a glass of something in easy reach."

"Thanks." Jack grinned more widely and lifted his glass. "Slainte."

Daniel inclined his head in acknowledgement, took another sip and put his glass down. "Nice. Hey, can I do anything to help?"

Jack took his offer at face value. "There're the fixings for a green salad in the fridge. If you want to do that while I'm getting this in the oven, we'll go sit for a while as it's cooking."

"Sure, I can do that," Daniel replied.

"Yeah? You sure?" Jack asked, with a sideways, teasing grin.

Daniel rose to the bait as instinctively as he always had, mock frowning at Jack over the rims of his glasses. "It's salad, Jack. Not some weird-ass purple people eating vegetable from the Black Lagoon. I think I'll cope with that."

"Uh huh. I'll bet you could cope with that weird-ass purple...what was that shit? I'll bet you'd cope with that too. You always did cope with pretty much everything."

"Maybe, maybe not. I'm not sure I could have a meaningful dialogue with an eggplant. Knife?"

"Block's over there," Jack said, cocking his head to indicate its general direction, "And don't be too sure about that. Think of some of the things you've communicated with in your time. Little grey naked guys. Glowy clouds. Blue crystals. Sushi."

"Sushi?" Daniel momentarily stopped rummaging in the bottom of the fridge and popped his head out, a puzzled expression on his face. "I don't ever remember -- oh, wait a minute. Of course. Cute, Jack."

"Sushi," Jack nodded firmly. "After all that, an eggplant would be a snap." 

"But not a snappy conversationalist." Daniel flipped the fridge door shut with one hip, dumped the vegetables on the counter and snagged a chopping board. 

"Hell no," Jack answered with a grin, "When are they ever?" and Daniel grinned right back at him.

They worked in companionable silence for a while, side by side at the counter. Jack was acutely aware of Daniel's presence by his side and how smoothly they fell back into the old pattern of working efficiently together in the same space. He relaxed into the warm comfort of their harmony, pulling it round himself like a blanket, watching out of the corner of his eye as Daniel methodically chopped and sliced. 

“There, we’re set,” Jack said with satisfaction as Daniel tossed the salad. He glanced at the timer. “Fifteen minutes tops and we'll be eating. Okay?”

“Okay.” Daniel dropped the knife he’d been using into the sink and washed his hands, grinning his thanks at Jack when he wordlessly handed him a towel. He grabbed his glass and followed Jack back through to the main room, plopping himself down on the other end of the couch.

Conversation seemed suddenly to have run out for some reason. The silence stretched as they studied each other, though not uncomfortably so, before Daniel broke it.

"So, ten years, huh?"

"Yeah," Jack almost sighed. "The time just seems to run away. It looks good on you though." He tipped his glass in Daniel's direction.

Daniel smiled and tipped his back at him. "Thanks. You too."

"Yeah, well. I had a head start on that one, I guess. But seriously, you look hardly a day older." At Daniel's sceptical look, Jack amplified, "I mean it. I'd've known you anywhere. And the formal look is good on you; I always thought so. Once we'd finally dragged you out of tweed, I thought so."

He was rewarded with a slightly startled, wrinkle-nosed grin. Typical Daniel, matching his memories exactly, SOP for dealing with an unexpected compliment. As he moved, the collar of his shirt shifted and Jack caught a familiar glint of metal. Familiar, but somehow shockingly unexpected around Daniel's neck.

"You're wearing tags."

Daniel's hand came up automatically and he fingered the chain, plucking it away from his skin as if it was too tight. "Uh, yeah." He looked a little self-conscious. "Everyone has to wear them now. I got used to them quite quickly though. I guess I'd miss them now if they weren't there." Daniel paused for a moment, considering. "Actually, that's quite funny really."

"The whole role reversal thing?"

Again, Daniel was slightly startled at how easily this Jack hopped on his train of thought and made himself comfortable. And at how much he missed this easy interaction in his working life. He nodded, "Yeah. Who would ever have thought?"

"Not me," Jack replied with a wide smile. "There is a certain symmetry there though. Kinda restores your faith in the order of the universe, doesn't it?" 

"Oddly - yes it does," Daniel replied with an equally wide smile. "That has to be worth a toast as well. To faith in symmetry."

"And ageing gracefully," Jack responded as they clinked glasses.

"That too."

Another slight pause as they took a drink.

"How long are you in town for?"

Daniel hastily swallowed another mouthful of wine. "Uh, depends. I've only just gotten here today and I do have some research to do. As usual, I'm really not sure what sources are going to be helpful and what aren't. If the library here has what I'm looking for, I'll maybe be in town a couple of days."

"And if it doesn't?"

"I'll fly out tomorrow, head for the next one."

Jack smiled warmly at him. "In that case, I'd better start hoping the sources are useful. I'd like the chance to show you around some, hang out for a while. It's been too long."

Daniel slowly smiled back. "Yeah, I think I'd like that." And that was nothing more than the simple truth: Jack's warmth was genuine, and genuinely flattering.

In the kitchen, the timer pinged. 

"Hold that thought," Jack said as he got to his feet. "I have a sauce to fix." He grabbed his glass and headed off to the kitchen. Daniel stood up and followed a little more slowly, arriving in time to see Jack taking the meat out of the oven pan. He sniffed appreciatively.

"Smells good."

"It's just about to get better, I hope." The pan sizzled on top of the stove as white wine was added, then garlic, herbs, cracked pepper and cream. Daniel took another deep sniff. 

"Oh yeah. You're right about that. It just did. Now it smells sensational."

"Good." Jack gave him another sideways smile as he dropped in some butter and stirred another couple of times, then turned to him with the wooden spoon in his hand. "Here. Give it a try."

He crossed the space between them, spoon held loaded and ready in one hand, the other cupped underneath to catch any spills, and held it up to Daniel’s mouth. Daniel held onto Jack's hand, steadying it as he dipped his head towards the spoon.

"Yep, that's good." He looked up at Jack through his lashes, catching his eyes and smiling into them with his own. 

Jack felt his throat constricting as the years rolled back and he rigidly schooled his expression. He'd seen that look directed at him a thousand times in his old life, in the earlier days at least. But he'd hardly seen it at all, latterly. The strange, flirty edge that had always characterised their friendship had surfaced less and less as they'd gotten closer to what he still mentally categorised as Ground Zero.

He'd cut Daniel off. Stupid. But now that look was back and he wasn't about to make the same, ill-judged decision again. _If_ he got the chance - he hadn't yet had the opportunity to find out what the status quo was, but he would. Meantime, Daniel's expression was changing. He seemed aware that they'd been standing too close for a little too long and was backing off, a slightly sheepish look on his face.

Jack said smoothly, covering the gap with his best smile, "Glad you approve. Organise the silverware will ya? Left hand drawer next to the sink. We're good to go."

 

*

Daniel pushed his plate away from him with a replete sigh. "That was good. Do you always eat that well?"

"Uh, actually? I pulled out all the stops for you." Jack grinned and ducked his head, absurdly pleased that Daniel had enjoyed his meal, sudden shyness seizing him. "Reunions like this don't happen every day."

"You got that right." Daniel laughed out loud. "How did you learn to cook like that?"

"Self-taught. Like I said before, I was always interested. Never had the time though to really get into it. That wasn't such a problem this time around. And I like to eat." Daniel's lips twitched as he nodded, remembering, "Not just take out and restaurants all the damn time. So, single guy who likes to eat - the cooking thing isn't that much of a reach."

"Single guy?"

Jack sniffed in a slow, deep breath as he nodded. "Yep. Never met the right person yet. Couple of flings, but nothing serious. You?"

"Are you kidding? When did our line of work ever leave room for a social life?" Daniel reached for the wine bottle and refilled their glasses.

"Point." Jack nodded soberly, remembering in his turn. He'd seen the flash of loneliness in Daniel's eyes as he'd answered even though he'd tried to cover it with a grin. It fleshed out at least part of his earlier assessment in the library, and he felt another sharp prickle of emotion that he was hard pressed to put a name to: sympathy, irritation, desire, protectiveness, they all figured in there somewhere. 

"Yeah, well," Daniel said lightly. This was dangerous ground, conversational and emotional quicksand snatching at his steps, and he plunged back towards terra firma. "But I'm interested in what you've been doing all these years. I know you went to school, but what else?"

Jack smiled again and pushed back his chair. "That, my friend, is a long story. C'mon, let's get comfortable before we start swapping life histories. We'll take the bottle."

"We should take care of the dishes first at least."

"Okay," Jack nodded and Daniel started to gather them up. "We can put them in the dishwasher. Thanks."

"No problem."

It didn't take long and a few minutes later Jack led the way back to his living room, motioning Daniel to take up his seat on the couch again. The room was starting to get dark, shadows clinging to the corners as the light failed and Jack switched on a couple of the spots before he headed for the couch. Daniel was not quite sprawled at his end but not quite upright either, angled into the corner so he could lean his arm along the back of the couch, wineglass within easy reach on the coffee table. It made Jack smile to see him like that, gradually winding down and making himself at home in his space, took him straight back to the good years. He was still smiling, bottom lip caught between his teeth, as he took up his own seat, angled into his own corner, one long leg folded up underneath him, the other stretched out to the floor.

"What?"

"I was just thinking how good it is to see you again. I'm glad I chose to go to the library today."

"Yeah, what were you doing there anyway?" Daniel sounded surprised at the idea of Jack O'Neill in a library. Jack's smile turned into a chuckle and Daniel looked abashed. "Uh, I didn't mean -- you didn't pick up any books."

"You distracted me. Doesn't matter. I can go back tomorrow. I meant to use the business database there, but it's nothing urgent."

"Business database? Okay, I'm intrigued. Tell me everything."

"'Everything' is a pretty tall order, Daniel." And one he wasn't yet sure would be a good idea. Although he really wasn't up for following in his own footsteps and saying nothing; not any more. He'd grown beyond that at least. But Daniel was replying to him again with another genuine smile.

"Okay then. Just give me the short version."

"Okay. Given the choice, I'd've been a pro hockey player. But that wouldn't have been a real smart move, given my history, or should I say, lack of history." Daniel nodded his understanding and agreement as Jack continued, "And the military was closed off to me, for obvious reasons. Besides, I'd been there, done that. Wasn't really up for doing it again, even if I could."

His eyes clouded as he remembered precisely why, skirting round the edges of the store of memories from his previous life. Daniel saw the shadow fall across them and attempted to steer the conversation back to safer ground. 

"You still play though. I saw the stick in the corner."

"Only occasionally. These days, I coach. Junior college team, and they're doing okay."

"So what did you do instead?"

Another wide smile, a genuine smile that made Jack's eyes sparkle as he raised his glass in a mock toast. "I took the old guy's advice. Never thought I would at first, but I thought about it some and could see it made sense, so I did. Buckled down at school, no goofing off, got me a degree - a good one too, mechanical engineering - then a post grad in business studies."

"Yeah? Good for you! Then what?"

"Then I started my own company."

This was surprising, although Daniel couldn't have said precisely why. But when he thought about it some more, thought about the logistical training and the single-minded determination characteristic of the prototype Jack O'Neill, maybe it wasn't such a surprise after all. Engineering though...

"Engineering? Funny, I wouldn't have thought..." Daniel tailed off and gave an embarrassed half-chuckle. "Sorry, I can't see you as a grease monkey somehow."

Jack's laugh was warm and genuine. "Hell no! Engineering was a useful fallback and it comes in handy from time to time now but I missed flying too much. When I was - -" he caught himself smoothly and changed tack with a shrug and a small grimace of wry amusement, "When he was young, the Air Force was the quickest route to the skies. Flying was all he really wanted to do. In that, we were no different. Plus I could remember what it was like, having the freedom that flying brings, you know? So I took flying lessons and got my licence --"

Daniel started to laugh himself. "You took flying lessons? After all those hours in F-18s and the F302 you took _lessons_?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Jack's eyes were sparkling as he relished telling his story. He watched Daniel's face as his eyes crinkled up at the corners. He was finally relaxed and loose, lounging back on the couch, butt pushed forward on the seat so he could rest his head in the crook of the arm, mellowed by good food, wine and conversation. Yeah, this was Daniel at his best, handsome face alive and expressive, eyes glowing with enthusiasm and amusement. He'd never wanted him quite as much as he did right then.

"It was a pain in the ass having to keep my mouth shut at times, but I managed it somehow. Means to an end, you know? It was the only way to get my licence in this lifetime, so I just had to suck it up and go with it. I'll tell ya though, my instructor was sure as hell impressed with my 'natural aptitude'." Jack's voice intensified into a sarcastic drawl over his last two words and Daniel snorted with appreciative laughter. "But he was just a kid. You know the type - bouncy and bushy tailed, like a puppy. Even if I'd had the clearance, I wouldn't have had the heart to point out that I'd probably been flying combat missions before he was born.

"Anyway, like I said - means to an end. You're looking at the proud owner of Aske Air Freight - 'Need to move it? Aske for service'." Jack cocked his head to one side as he finished speaking with a quizzical lift of one eyebrow, mouth folding into a small, sly smile, and Daniel frowned, getting the feeling that he was waiting for something.

"Ask?"

"With an 'e'."

Daniel's brow slowly cleared. "Cute. The first man created by the Asgard."

"I knew you'd get it. Nobody else does." Jack's expression broadened into a conspiratorial grin, and it struck Daniel yet again how great it was that this Jack had come to terms so well with his circumstances. And how attractive it was. Although it was a little strange too: he had an ease and an openness about him that Daniel wasn't used to any more from the Jack O'Neill that he knew best, and that threw him almost as much as it captivated him. 

"The 'e' shouldn't really be silent, you know." 

Daniel's lips remained slightly pursed as he considered the inaccuracy in pronunciation and Jack smiled to himself at his typically disapproving expression as he defended it, "Yeah, well, poetic licence. I thought it was justified. Plus, you know, I couldn't resist flipping the bird at NID in a mild kind of a way."

Nodding, Daniel asked, "Did they get it?" His eyes were gleaming with humour again.

"What do you think?" The familiar shark grin was in place on Jack's face and Daniel laughed outright.

"Just guessing here - but not even if you clubbed them over the head with it. Way too subtle for them."

"And Doctor Jackson shoots and scores yet again."

"What, you think I got all those letters after my name just for showing up in class?"

"Nah, I never thought that." Jack was serious for a moment, eyes full of affection that warmed Daniel when he saw it, before he changed tack again. "It's only small right now of course, me and two other pilots, but it's going places."

"Quite literally."

"Yeah," Jack chuckled at the small pun and took another drink from the glass in his hand. "So that's you up to speed with my life, pretty much. What about yours? What have you been up to for the last few years?"

Daniel cocked his head to one side in a one-shouldered shrug. "Same old. I'm still with the SGC, as you no doubt realised the minute you met me in the library. I don't go off world any more though." He gave a self-deprecating grin. "I leave that to the youngsters. Besides," he pointed down towards his left leg.

"I noticed the limp," Jack said. "What happened?"

"Oh, you know. One megalomaniac snake too many," Daniel said lightly. "Long story short, the doctors saved the leg but couldn't make it good as new. So I was grounded."

Jack deliberately let that one slide. He knew how much Daniel would miss going off world, he'd lived that one himself. "So, what then? Head of Department?"

"Yep," Daniel nodded. "I head up a combined department. Xenoanth/Xenoarch and Linguistics." He laughed a little self-consciously. "It's a bit of a mouthful - I never did get around to thinking up a snappy department title."

"Oh, I dunno. It seems appropriate - XXL. That's quite a wide ranging brief you have there; extra, extra large seems to fit somehow."

Daniel snorted, overlooking Jack's small attempt at levity. "Wide ranging is a word and a half. And still no adequate budget, so no changes there either. The Pentagon still has its head up its collective ass when it comes to funding the social sciences section of the program. There's still never enough money, and never, ever enough time to do a thorough job with the knowledge we gain. Not unless it's strategic, or military, or --"

Jack chimed in and said, at exactly the same moment as Daniel, "A big honkin' space gun."

"Yeah," Daniel said with a rueful chuckle. 

"Still rankles, huh?"

Daniel didn't reply, just gave him a look that Jack remembered well.

"Yeah, it still rankles," Jack repeated with a slow nod of his head.

Daniel shrugged. "I guess. You know how it is. Plus ça change..."

"Et plus c'est la même chose. I know. The Pentagon will never develop any kind of altruism and you'll never develop a truly military mindset. Which still makes your daily work frustrating."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. There's still a lot that I can do," Daniel said earnestly. "And on balance, I enjoy my job. It's just -- we could do so much more, you know?"

"No arguments from me. It was always like that and I guess it always will be. Different agendas. Neither completely right, neither completely wrong... just different."

There was a short, uncomfortable silence as both men contemplated the old argument, before they caught each other's eye and tacitly agreed to just let it drop.

"So, what about Carter? And Teal'c? Are they still with the SGC? Or is that classified?"

Daniel chuckled. "We've done nothing except talk classified information, strictly speaking, for most of the evening. Like I'm going to worry about that now?"

Jack grinned back at him. "I guess. So, how are they both?"

"Both well. Sam is 2IC of the SGC now. She goes off world occasionally, but there was a policy change there too and it's frowned on these days. She divides her time between admin and her lab, and she seems happy enough."

"Still no significant other?"

Daniel shook his head, his mouth suddenly tightening. "There was for a while, but he's not on the scene any more," he said shortly. "It didn't work out."

There seemed to be some back-story there, from the tone of Daniel's voice, but he didn't elaborate even though Jack waited a beat for him to start. So he contented himself with saying merely, "Pity."

"I thought so too. They seemed good together, but who can ever tell?" Daniel paused for a moment, then continued, "Teal'c went home - the old team really fell apart when that happened, it was never the same after that. He's fine though, or was the last time I heard, about three months ago. I don't think Jaffa politics will ever be an easy option." 

At Jack's raised eyebrow, Daniel amplified, "The Jaffa declared themselves free a long time ago, but the factions are still arguing about exactly what freedom means, even after all this time. You know what Jaffa are like when it comes to, uh, philosophical differences. Let's just say it keeps Teal'c on his toes. Though he has Bra'tac to run interference for him, and vice versa of course."

Jack's face lit up. "Bra'tac, the old son of a gun. He's still going strong? He must be what, about a hundred and fifty now? A hundred and fifty two?"

Daniel nodded. "About that, yeah." Daniel raised his eyes to the ceiling as he did the math. "Actually, a hundred and fifty five. He's getting a little less robust now physically, though it'd be a brave man that suggested that to him. Apart from that, he's as... vigorous as ever." 

"Yeah. That's a word and a half. When I think 'Bra'tac', I definitely think 'vigorous'. I wouldn't mind meeting him again some day." Jack smiled fondly. 

There was another short pause.

"And the old guy? What's he up to these days?" 

Jack asked the question with studied casualness, not looking up but twirling the stem of the wine glass between finger and thumb while he stared into the depths of his wine. His tone set Daniel's internal alarm bells jangling, although he couldn't have said precisely why. He answered, lightly enough he hoped, "I haven't seen the Major General for quite some time. Last I heard he was doing okay though."

"Major General is it now?" Jack gave a low, appreciative whistle. "Fast track in the end, huh? Who'd 'a thought it after all those years stuck as a Colonel?"

"I suppose so." Daniel's voice was as colourless as he could make it. "He was promoted to General and ran the SGC when General Hammond left, then again when he went to fly a desk in Washington. That didn't altogether work out and he took over starting up the Gamma Site. He hasn't been on world for years, except for flying visits to the Pentagon. When he comes to Earth, we never have time to meet up - too many policy meetings with the brass."

Jack felt a curious mixture of emotions. He hadn't missed the bitter little twist to Daniel's lips at the end of this statement, nor the slightly wistful tone of his voice, and it yet again stirred all the old protective urges that this man had always inspired in him. But mixed in with them was sadness for his alter ego, which he soon dismissed as irritation seeped in and turned into downright anger. But then the anger bled away in the face of the first faint stirrings of hope. 

"Gamma site?"

Daniel nodded slowly. "The Beta site was located and destroyed by Anubis, about a year after you --" He stopped dead and flushed a little. "I'm sorry, that was crass of me."

Jack smiled. "It's okay. I came to terms with it long ago. It took me a while to realise it, but I reckon I got the best end of the deal there after all, in most respects anyway. Not all, but most. Yeah, sure, the whole 'old guy in a young skin' thing was a little odd, at least to start with, but overall? It's worked out okay."

Daniel gestured around the apartment. "I can see that. It looks like you're doing all right for yourself."

Jack smiled again and tipped his head to one side. "That wasn't quite what I meant, but never mind."

"So what did you mean?" At Jack's questioning look, Daniel expanded, "Seriously. I'm interested." 

Jack gave a fleeting grimace, holding Daniel's eyes for a moment before staring down into the depths of his glass again with pursed lips. He waited a beat or two before answering, waited so long that Daniel was beginning to wonder if he was going to answer at all. Then just when Daniel was casting around for some new topic, any topic to lift the sudden tension he was feeling between them, he replied, a sober expression on his face.

"It's a strange experience, having to remould a life into something different. It's a great opportunity too, to be able to change the things that you're not happy with."

"You didn't seem to think that to start with," Daniel observed.

Jack said slowly, "No... No, I didn't. I was too concerned with the smaller picture then, I think. Too resentful of what I was losing to consider or appreciate what I was gaining. I've worked it out since then. Found a balance. Made some changes. Done some things a little differently. Done some things a lot better, I hope, but hey," he shrugged, "who can say that for sure?"

Daniel smiled gently. "No one, I guess. So what would you say you've done a lot better? So far?"

Jack looked at Daniel, quietly assessing him. He sensed there were feelings there for the other him, if he was reading Daniel correctly. So maybe now was the time to take a chance. Or maybe he'd find it too fucked up or something, that he was willing to give what the old guy hadn't, or couldn't. That'd always been the trouble with Daniel, his reactions never came as standard. He had his own unique way of looking at things, and had never been totally predictable. He was even less so now, with all the extra water that had passed under the bridge. 

Meantime, Daniel had noticed him chewing the inside of his lip, and his attention had sharpened while he was waiting for a reply. Jack mentally crossed his fingers and made his decision.

He said carefully, looking Daniel straight in the eye to gauge his reaction, "Well for one thing, I'm out. Have been since college. No more hiding, and that's a relief." 

"Out?" Daniel's face was a study in perplexity. "Out, as in...?"

"Yep. Out. As in," Jack supplied helpfully.

Daniel's reaction wasn't quite what Jack expected. "Out," he repeated thoughtfully. And a split second later, Jack saw a spark of anger leap in his eyes before they dropped to his own glass. Hell no, that wasn't the reaction he'd been hoping for at all.

And then Daniel surprised him again. He started to chuckle softly as he sat swirling the wine gently round in his glass with great concentration. It was a bitter little sound, not much humour in it.

"What?"

"What? Oh, I'm sorry." Daniel looked up and took in the expression on Jack's face and immediately sobered up. "I wasn't laughing at you."

"What then?"

"At myself, I guess. At my life so far. And it's not even close to being funny, so don't ask, because I really don't understand it myself." Daniel drained his glass and put it down on the coffee table with a loud click. And then, with a sudden change of direction, tightened his lips and said, "So. The Major General's in the closet then?" He shook his head. "And people think the Universe has no sense of humour."

So there it was. All of his questions were now answered, for better or worse. The old guy had never said a thing. And probably never would now, he'd figure the chance had been missed for good. Ever the pragmatist, he'd never back track. And Daniel was hurting about it. "Damn," Jack muttered. "Daniel, I'm..."

Daniel cut across him, talking fast and a little more loudly than was strictly necessary, not looking at him. "I'm sorry. I really _wasn't_ laughing at you." A small, apologetic grin flitted across his face. "You know, I think I'm getting a little punch drunk here. Chalk it up to tiredness? I've been up since stupid o'clock this morning. I should really get back to the hotel and get some sleep. I've got a busy schedule in the morning."

"Daniel --" Jack half lifted a hand in an attempt to hold him back, but he was already on his feet, taking an exaggerated look at his wristwatch. 

"I guess I'll catch a cab easy enough outside? It's not that late."

Jack could still recognise tactical error when it was staring him in the face and had never lost his appreciation of the value of falling back to regroup. He leaned forward and lifted his cell from the coffee table. "If you hold on, I'll call one for you."

Daniel gave him a quick smile as he shrugged into his jacket and replied in a determinedly normal tone of voice. "Thanks, but I'll get one myself. I think some fresh air might do me a bit of good. Get rid of that punchy, muzzy feeling, you know?"

His eyes met Jack's for a brief instant - and Jack realised with a slight shock that his assessment had been wrong. Daniel wasn't hurting - he was furious and doing his best to swallow it down. His face wore a slight smile but his eyes were flint. Always a dangerous look on Daniel, he recalled: it usually meant he was going to come out swinging, either literally or metaphorically. And right now it was a signal that he should give in gracefully, before he totally blew it. Because even though Daniel was angry, he wasn't altogether sure that he was angry with _him_. Not yet anyway.

"Well okay, if you're sure." Best to keep their goodbyes as normal as possible, they both instinctively knew it. More civilised that way.

"I'm sure. And thanks. It's been good. Maybe we'll get the chance to do this again some time." 

Jack rose to his feet as Daniel turned for the door. That last comment hadn't sounded at all encouraging. Worse, it had sounded dismissive.

"Tomorrow maybe? I'll call you; see how you're getting on with your research. See if you're going to be here longer than a few hours. We could maybe fit in that sight-seeing."

Daniel nodded slightly, responding automatically to the slight rise in Jack's voice. "We'll see. I'm at the Allerton. You know it?"

"On North Michigan?" Jack nodded his head and pulled a face in acknowledgement. "Nice."

"It's okay. Somewhere to lay my head." Another small smile, a mere twist of the lips, that didn't reach Daniel's eyes. "So, uh -- thanks again. The meal was great." A quick, awkward handshake, accompanied by a sharp, chilly glance from under lowered brows, and Jack mechanically opened the door and saw Daniel out.

"Night, Daniel," he said to a stiff, retreating back, watching for long moments before he closed the door and shot the bolts, turning to lean against it and drop his head back against the wood with a huge exhalation of breath. 

Okay, maybe that hadn't gone so well.

*

Daniel reached the street and stood for a few moments, hunching his shoulders against the slight chill of the intermittent breeze that was raising small dust devils where it swirled into the lee of the buildings. Yeah, the Windy City, sure enough, he thought sourly. Its nickname wasn't misplaced. He turned up his collar and shoved his hands in his pockets as he looked up and down the quiet street then turned and started to walk, keeping one eye open for a cab.

He heard one coming up behind him and turned, ready to hail it. No joy there, the light was out and he could make out the passenger sitting in the back seat. No actually, a couple sitting so closely entwined that it was difficult to make out that one was in fact two until the cab swooshed past under the street light. _Huh, and there's a metaphor for my life right there. Yeah, that works on so many levels_ , he thought bitterly then hunched his shoulders in self-disgust. That had been pathetic. 

In his pockets, his hands balled into fists. Wasted time, missed opportunities: both of them made him angry. Fourteen fucking years wasted, god knew how many opportunities passed up. Shit. And all that time, Jack cowering in the closet. Fuck. That made him angriest of all. His mouth tightened into a thin, resentful line and he kicked moodily at a soda can that was lying on the sidewalk, watching with grim satisfaction as it bounced off at a clattering tangent, spewing the remains of its contents in a messy arc as it went.

And yet -- and yet. The noise and the motion released something inside him and his anger ebbed slightly; he could begin to see beyond it. It wasn't so clear cut as that, maybe, after all. Years of knowing Jack, of knowing exactly how his mind worked, hadn't been entirely wasted. He was above all an honourable man: duty, conscience, a passionate belief in freedom, his unshakeable conviction of his place in securing it, were all important to him. Doubly so when he'd sworn an oath. It didn't matter how often he bent the rules; the underlying principles were bedrock. They were what made Jack, Jack. 

But these uncompromising values were grafted onto his basic nature, the warm, gregarious, essentially loving man that he took great pains to conceal from anyone that wasn't close to him. It had to have been a hard road for him to take, to bury his nature and subordinate it to his career.

Huh. He'd thought, until today, that he was over that instinctive reaction to defend the Major General, the pattern that had been set all those years ago on Abydos and sealed since then with a staff blast or several. Apparently not. And wasn't that just a blast too?

It was all speculation. He didn't know for sure and probably never would. But it was always important to him, to know. And now, he needed to know whether he'd been an idiot all those years when he'd wished and hoped, or whether it was Jack who'd been the fool. Because he would have waited, if Jack had asked: he wouldn't have relished it, but he would have understood. Damn it all, he'd pretty well done exactly that even though Jack had never asked. He'd never gone without, but he'd never given anything more than an enjoyable fuck. 

He knew better than to think that he and his Jack could turn back the clock. No one could do that. And after all this time, even their friendship had burned out at its core, reduced to being civil to each other on the very rare occasions they met. But he needed something.

He needed closure. He needed a firm line drawn in the ledger, underscored by a credible explanation. One, he realised, that he would never get from the emotionally evasive Major General. 

But this other Jack - this one was Jack as he should have been, as he might have been were it not for the damn military and their idiot rules, and the Goa'uld and the war with Anubis that had held Jack to those rules. All the shit that had gone down in the older Jack's life and no breathing space to get it all into some kind of perspective; all the stuff that had closed him down and locked him up tight. 

And he did have a unique handle on what made his predecessor tick. When in doubt, go back to the primary sources when you can. Maybe this Jack would give him a straight answer.

The complete inappropriateness of his choice of phrase tickled some grim sense of irony inside him and his lips stretched in a bleak travesty of a smile as he made his decision and turned back the way he'd come. 

*

It was a slightly different matter when Daniel stood facing the door to Jack's apartment again, hand poised to knock. He stood for a moment, chewing on his lip as he pondered the wisdom of what he was about to do, then squared his shoulders and knocked anyway. The time had come for him to take care of himself.

He started talking as soon as the door started its inward swing. "Jack, I uh--" 

He paused as he took in the sight in front of him. Jack stood in front of him, barefoot, shirt open and the edges of the material parting to reveal a broad stripe of attractively hairy muscle. 

Jack's face creased into a smile and he threw the door wide, gesturing him inside with a wave of his arm. The shirt swung wide with the movement, revealing a flat, dark brown nipple, leaving Daniel stunned by a lurching jolt of lust deep in his belly. He flashed on it hardening under his fingers before he recovered himself and swallowed.

"You forgot your books. I was going to drop them by the hotel in the morning."

"Books?" Daniel was momentarily thrown, creased brow reflecting his confusion. "Uh yeah. I guess I did." He moistened his lips, trying to clear his thoughts.

Jack's eyebrows were on the rise, his head cocked to one side. His smile faded slightly as he waited for Daniel to carry on, gaze flicking from Daniel's mouth to his eyes, where they caught and held. For a split second his eyes looked puzzled before their expression changed and Daniel watched the pupils dilate as arousal crackled out of nowhere. A slick of need tingled over his own skin as his pulse quickened and his dick jerked in his pants.

Instinctively, his eyes dropped, lingering on the thick ridge of Jack's cock, already growing hard and obvious in the confines of his jeans as he turned and closed the open door. He didn't stop to think but moved in close, so close that they nearly bumped noses when Jack turned back, staring at him for a long slow moment before he swooped in and claimed Jack's mouth.

For a moment he thought Jack wouldn't respond. The lips under his were slack and immobile. But only for a moment: Jack's tongue was surprisingly thick and agile when it woke up, winding and gliding against his, quicksilver motion impossible to predict, flowing into his mouth and then withdrawing, inviting Daniel in. His hands were everywhere as he scrabbled Daniel's shirt out of his waistband and rucked it and his jacket high up his back in an untidy mess. Daniel felt a thumb sweeping against his nipple, felt it from his chest down to the tip of his cock; felt blunt nails scratching over the small of his back; felt the prickle of spit-soaked skin drying around his mouth when they finally parted, breathing heavily.

His own hands were under Jack's shirt, skimming over his ribs, kneading the muscles in his back. They skimmed over the patch of hair where Jack's spine disappeared under his waistband, back up to the warm silk of his shoulders. Each touch, each different texture was a direct charge to the pool of heavy pleasure growing low in his gut.

Jack pulled in a shuddering gulp of air and held Daniel tight, burying his head in the crook of his neck for a moment. Pulling back and staring avidly at him, his expression dissolved into a brilliant smile that warmed Daniel like a thousand suns.

"You came back. I thought I'd blown it - again. I'm glad I didn't." Jack leaned his forehead briefly against Daniel's, then lifted his head and added with a glint of sly mischief, "I'd rather blow you."

Daniel laughed as he pushed away and held Jack's gaze. He undid his pants and said simply, "So what's stopping you? Not me, that's for sure."

Jack's eyes dropped to Daniel's open fly, fixing on the bulge of his cock where it was tenting its fabric confines. His tongue snaked out over his lips before he raised his eyes again. The flare of desire that Daniel saw in them made a wave of heat course over his skin. He wondered for a wild moment if Jack would just drop to his knees right here and now, balls tightening at thoughts of coming hard and fast in Jack's mouth for the first round, the image of his dick sliding between those lips.

"Not here though. C'mon." Jack tugged at his arm to get him moving and led the way to the bedroom, shrugging out of his shirt as he went. 

He balled it up and flung it one-handed in the general direction of the laundry hamper in the corner, popping the button of his jeans with the other hand, and turned to watch Daniel coming through the door behind him, minus his jacket and glasses and hauling his shirt up and off by the hem, still buttoned. 

His eyes raked Daniel up and down, hot and hungry, watching the play of muscles in his stomach and bunched shoulders. Only marginal signs of softening there in the slight swell of belly: Daniel was keeping in shape. He followed the fine trail of hair that started around his navel, down to his open fly and his cock, freed now, veined and thick, rearing from a dark riot of pubic hair. It bobbed gently as Daniel moved, beckoning him, beautiful, hard and ready for him.

He watched Daniel's face as his head popped out of his shirt and his breath hitched. The brilliant blue of his eyes was almost swallowed by the black pupils and he was breathing hard, a single bead of sweat glistening in the furrow of his upper lip. Their eyes locked as Daniel toed out of his shoes and they both stripped off their pants and shorts, and stayed locked as Daniel advanced towards him. And god, he would swear Daniel was growling. He could hear it at the edge of his hearing, a low, thrumming rumble, sound without noise. When Daniel wound one hand through the hair at the back of his head and pulled back hard, stretching his neck in a taut curve and latching onto the pulse point at the base of his throat, he was sure of it. Daniel's chest vibrated against his and he felt an increased charge of desire mixed with simple pride that he could turn him on like that. 

Warm fingers curled round his cock and he shook as the realisation hit him - this was _Daniel_. Daniel biting his neck and shoulders, licking a broad stripe up his throat and finding his mouth again, hand still clenched in his hair. Daniel working his cock so exactly right as if he'd been doing it for years, not seconds, hand sliding down his back to grip and knead his ass. He wormed his hand between them and took hold of Daniel's cock, groaning "oh yeah," softly against the mobile lips nibbling at his as he lifted into his hand, breathing hard as his own grip adjusted around smooth, hot satin.

Daniel sagged against him briefly and grunted quietly before his knees locked again. Jack nudged him with one shoulder and he got the message. One more fierce, passionate kiss, a kiss that turned Jack's knees to jelly and made his gut lurch, and he turned to lie spread out over the bed.

Daniel felt the shock of Jack's weight settling on him skin to skin with every square inch of his body. For a moment he lay passive, revelling in the heat and weight holding him down flat, the hard cock digging into his thigh, the velvety pressure against his cock where it lay trapped between them, before he grasped Jack's shoulders and urged him downwards. He felt Jack smiling against his skin as he followed his direction and slithered leisurely down his body, swirling his tongue against a nipple, delicately tracing the lines of pecs and abs with his lips, nipping the skin over one hip, sucking hard enough to bruise on the inside of one thigh. 

Soft touches, hard bites, blood pounding through his veins, all welded into a white blur of sensation that left him gasping and twisting the sheets into knots with his fists. Finally, the roughness of slight stubble scratching his ass, the softness and slickness of Jack's tongue as it flickered around his asshole, the pressure of one warm hand firmly cupping his balls, exploring them with long, sensitive fingers. 

Jack rimmed him thoroughly, taking his time to savour the tastes of musk and salt, the muted murmurs of encouragement coming from above him, the sensation of Daniel opening for him as his tongue worked back and forth, round and in, until one of Daniel's heels dug into his ass and urged him upwards. He slipped one finger in and mouthed his way up to Daniel's cock as he searched for his gland, smiling as he felt him stiffen and shudder underneath him and heard the sighed "yes", looking up to watch his stomach muscles tensing and flexing. He licked, flat-tongued, up the shaft and lipped at the crown, getting his first taste of pre-come, a salt-sweet burst on his tongue, as one of Daniel's hands tangled in his hair again, clutching the back of his skull.

Jack lifted his head at that, and smiled into Daniel's eyes, then dipped it again as the hand tightened and coaxed him back down to finally take Daniel's cock fully into his mouth. The hand in his hair fell away and Daniel went rigid as he strained to subdue his impulse to thrust. He didn't completely succeed, but Jack rode it easily, fitting the motion of his head to the bucking of Daniel's hips as his tongue mapped the contours of his cock.

He sensed that Daniel was close and backed off with a hard squeeze to the base of his cock, and was rewarded with a low rasp of frustration coming from way back in Daniel's throat.

"Finish me." Daniel's voice was a ragged gasp.

Jack shook his head. "I don't want us to come until I'm inside you. Okay?"

Daniel nodded and replaced Jack's hand on his cock with his own. "Hurry up. I'm close."

Daniel watched him greedily as he slicked himself up, and closed his eyes and gasped, slack-jawed and sweating and still gripping the base of his cock, as Jack prepped him. Finally he drew back his knees and let Jack in. 

Heat and pressure almost too much to bear: Jack closed his eyes and gulped air as he fought to maintain his control. When he felt steadier, he opened his eyes and looked down, catching his breath with fascinated desire. He'd never in his life seen Daniel look so open to anyone or anything. Daniel's self-containment was shattered and all that was left was sensation. The urge to make this last for him finally beat out the urge to come, balancing Jack on the thin edge between pleasure and frustration.

Jack stroked into him with a steady rhythm, slow and easy, losing himself completely, all five senses engaged. He felt Daniel's heat gripping his cock and his hands skimming his ribs; he heard the quiet huffs of sound his actions caused. He could taste Daniel on his tongue and smell the scents of fresh sweat and sex. When he finally opened his eyes and looked down, he marvelled at the sight: Daniel, eyes drowned in pleasure of his making, hair damp with sweat, back arching off the bed with every stroke as he white-knuckled the sheets. He leaned in for a kiss, feeling a sharp jolt of exultant pride. He'd done this to Daniel, for Daniel - him, not the old guy. Him.

Daniel shifted under him and Jack understood. He pulled him in close, hauling his legs up and onto his shoulders, so that Daniel could start to move, really move. He upped the pace until Jack was pounding into him, grinding hard with his hips to meet every stroke, sweating and straining, damp hair plastered to his head, a small, fierce smile on his face. 

Jack's world narrowed down to a pinpoint as his balls drew up tight. He was dimly aware that he was snarling as Daniel cried out but he wasn't listening. He was watching as Daniel came, thick stripes of come splattering over his stomach as he thrust into him, hard. And then there was only feeling, as his balls emptied and he finally collapsed in a sweating heap into Daniel's arms.

*

He liked Daniel this way, Jack decided - drowsy and warm in the ruins of his once crisply laundered bed (some habits were impossible to shed), skin glistening where the lamplight gilded its contours as the sweat cooled on his body, looking thoroughly well-fucked. The years really dropped away from him when he looked like this. He looked incredibly boyish for a fifty year old, his face relaxed and open, what lines there were smoothed out by his explosive release. Much, much younger than he'd looked at the same age, that was for sure. 

Yeah, he could stand to see this more than once in this lifetime, and to know that he was the cause. He propped himself up on one arm and settled down to look, then touch. Because finally he was allowed to. 

He rested his hand on Daniel's chest, fingers splayed, and stroked lightly, concentrating on the drag of slightly sticky skin against the pads of his fingers, memorising the solid contours of muscle and bone, content to rest in the moment if he could. 

But he had the strangest feeling that the old guy was surfacing in his head, fighting this and fighting it hard. Fighting the new, improved him in the way he hadn't done for years, threatening to fuck this new beginning up, just as he'd fucked up the old one.

Wasn't gonna happen, he thought with a small frown and a determined tightening of his lips. He had nothing to do with the Major General now, nothing at all. This was about him and Daniel, here and now, not past history. And besides, he thought with a characteristic surge of triumphant one-upmanship, this was an area where he had all the advantages. He knew exactly how to love a man and that gave him the inside track.

He forced the old guy in his head to finally retreat with his tail between his legs just as he became aware that Daniel was watching him, cataloguing the play of expressions over his face with a practiced eye.

"The same, but not the same," Daniel murmured, almost to himself. Jack stared at him, trying to divine his meaning from his look, but Daniel's expression was neutral. He couldn't tell what Daniel meant, whether it was a good thing or a bad, and he was suddenly fearful, heart hammering in his chest. So Jack, being Jack in all the ways that really mattered, forced his face into an expression of neutrality and offered Daniel a graceful 'out'.

"He loved you, you know. Possibly still does, I dunno. He just never quite got his head out of his ass to tell you."

With a gentle smile, Daniel replied, "Yeah. I really didn't know before tonight but I've kinda guessed as much. You're him in all the essentials after all, and people just don't change that much. I don't think. But why bring that up now?"

"Just - I don't want you to settle. I don't want this - you know, if there _is_ a 'this' here," Jack sketched a vague circle in the space between them as Daniel raised one quizzical eyebrow, "to be second best, you know?" He gave a small, rueful grin and ran a hand through his hair in an achingly familiar gesture, leaving it tufted up and messy. "You know me - I never did like it when I wasn't top dog. Another of those things that's never changed, deep down."

Daniel watched Jack carefully as he was speaking. His face was almost smiling, mocking himself, but his eyes were anxious and his body was very, very still. Though when it came right down to it, it was remarkably simple; there was only one possible answer he could give. He lifted his hand to cup the back of Jack's neck, then ran his palm lightly down over the bunched muscles of his arm, idly watching the flesh twitch under his touch before looking back into his eyes.

"Not second best, no," he said gravely. "A second chance. And that's a different thing entirely."

* 

Epilogue

 

Major General Jack O'Neill (USAF, retired) paused as his hand reached into his pocket for his cell. He thought for a moment then continued anyway and punched in the number he'd pulled from the personnel files just before he'd finally left the mountain.

_"O'Neill."_

Yeah, that figured. But it made him hesitate.

" _Who's this?"_

"O'Neill here." Silence on the other end of the line. Then,

" _What do you want?"_

It was brusque, suspicious, not friendly. Okay, so he hadn't expected the fatted calf exactly. He could deal.

_"Don't even ask if you can speak to Daniel."_

"I wasn't going to." A snort of harsh laughter.

_"Okay. I might have known that already. So what do you want?"_

Good question. He closed his eyes briefly and thought about it. What did he want? Affirmation, reassurance, what? He wasn't sure he could answer that -- no wait, he could. Intel was what he needed.

"Is he happy?" 

A prolonged silence before the reply came down the line in a soft voice. A tender voice, he thought, a bitter stab of regret for might-have-beens twisting somewhere deep inside, surprisingly painful even after all this time. He ruthlessly stamped it down with the ease of long practice.

_"Yeah, I think so. I'm trying my best to make it happen."_

"Good," he said gruffly, with a sharp nod of satisfaction, "You won't hear from me again." And closed up his phone.

 

END


End file.
